Hey!...It's me! ME! You remember...that ONE girl...OR - A Bap Story

*sigh*

Honestly, I don't know why I let things go so far. I mean, this is my BLOG, FGS! Everyone else that I know that has a blog uses it regularly. And to the betterment of mankind. And to make Earth a more better place to live.

Not me. I just use mine to make sure that I can post cheesy comments on all of those humanitarian blog sites. It's like having a homebase - one that I don't live at.

(Huh. That is a great description of my house! I use it as homebase, but I don't live here. And I digress. Just like ole times, ah? :))

I have so many things to tell you about, but first things first. And one thing at a time. That is my game plan, anyway.

Guess what??! (No...I didn't get a speeding ticket. Not in this story. Stay tuned if you want to hear a funny story on THAT particular subject.)

I got into a real life accident in Littleton! Yep. All by myself. I was looking down at my phone in my lap contemplating what smartmouth thing I was going to text my boyfriend about how ridiculous it was that I was having to go pick up his son from football practice AND then go pick up son's best friend for a sleepover AND then try to figure out how to keep them all entertained while boyfriend continued working and making me waste MY day off and how I was going to put all of that in one little sentence without using shorthand because you know how I hate text shorthand and think that it is lowbrow and kind of creepy because that is what all the creepos use when they are trying to hit on you and get you to send topless pictures of yourself on Yahoo...when WHAM! I let my foot off of the gas to follow the car in front of me through the green light (which I saw out of the corner of my eye, by the way) and then. She. Stopped. And I hit her. Not very hard, mind you...more like a tap. (Not a soft tap, maybe more like a rap. Between a rap and a bam. A bap. I BAPPED her.)

I put my car in park, grabbed up my phone that I suddenly didn't feel like texting on anymore, and walked like a man going to his hanging in the direction of the car I had violated. (Bapped.)

"Are you okay???", I asked the lady inside. "I have the paramedics coming", she moaned, "I had a stroke last year and I will need to be checked out".

Oh. A stroke. Well, THAT sucks. What can you say past news like that? Bring on the ambulance!

And bring on they did. Two ambulances. Two firetrucks. Two state troopers. One Arapahoe Sheriff. A whole lane full of red and blue and orange lights to alert everyone else in the state of CO that I had rearended this lady in the merge-on-to-c470-lane. Oh. My. Heavens.

The EMT's hauled the lady off on a stretcher while the troopers and sheriff inspected my insurance paperwork and eyeballed for damage on our vehicles. Which there was none of. None. There was NO damage from our little Bap.

The EMT's came back to my car to let me know that everything was just fiiiiine with the lady, and not to worry one little bit. The CO State Trooper teased me about my bald tires (bald from racing back and forth to see boyfriend!) and the Arapahoe Sheriff regaled me with stories of accidents he had seen in just this same area - some of them horrific! The Firemen just winked as they walked by...no, they didn't. But they did wave and smile. I was the one doing the winking. No - I didn't either.

Everything was right as rain until it came time for the final paperwork. (DumdumDUMMMMM!) Because there was an ambulance involved and I had rearended the poor lady, I got a ticket for Careless Driving Resulting in Bodily Injury. And because I am a poverty-stricken-single-mother-of-three, I didn't have proper tags on my car. Ugh.

Those combined charges: A court appearance.

The poor lady's charge to the respective insurance companies: Extensive head and neck injuries and a totaled car due to a massive collision from behind.

FML.

(to be continued)

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall...

Assignment- find one food word to describe who you are at this very moment: Hmmm.

I am a omelet. Yes. An omelet made by a four year old.

Scrambled. Jumbled. Full of great ingredients, but without a definable shape. (That's where the chef's age comes into play. The omelets you are accustomed to probably resemble a half circle which IS a shape. The omelet I am is a glop.)I am a fulfilling experience - unless you get too much of me, and then I will cause a belly ache. Also, too much of me will affect the health of your heart. Adversely, it seems.

Oh - and then there is the part where regular indulgence in me will create familiarity which will breed contempt. You will be sick of omelets.

I am light in color and sometimes fluffy. Occasionally, I will change up all of my ingredients and become a new creation. But alas - even with the reinventions, I am still just an omelet. I can pair well with any beverage, but Bloody Mary's bring out the best in me.

I guess being an omelet is better than being a pork chop. Or a brussel sprout.

What's YOUR food persona? ;)

Signs of Life

I am here! I am alive! I am happy and healthy and blah, blah, blah...

I was looking through my past blogging history and noting my ups and downs...particularly those times when I hermitize and/or start a whole new blog. It's as if I can't even bother to try to find the words that describe where I am or who I am at that moment, so I will either ditch and burn or hide and watch.

Anyway. There isn't any ditching and burning today, and I have been hiding and watching for so long that my default blog setting doesn't even go to my own blog anymore. HA!

I am getting ready to take my beloved children to D's house to have a fish fry with his beloved children. And I don't like fish fry's. But I do like D. And our children.

...I am taking mustard. And a camera.

Crash and Burn...

...and she's down, folks.

(Be right back - looking for rock bottom.)

Life's like a ...

...jumprope! Ha. You thought I was gonna pull a gump on ya and say box of chocolates, huh? Well, I didn't. So there.

This more modern phrase of describing life's inherent qualities comes from the new album by Blue October - who Taylor and I had the pleasure of seeing in concert earlier this month. Blue October, not the album. Although, we did buy the album. But not until after the concert.

Anyway! Criminy.

It has been quite the week around here...what with the seven year old and nine year old melting down into puddles of rage and hatred aimed at mommy, and the death of my skeeter cat(who my ex got custody of - before she died, not after), my mind surely has had to work extra hard to think only about myself.

But life is getting smoother. Easier. More full of pleasantries than dark moments.

On the current upswing that I am finally getting to experience (I think my ups and downs might be chartable)I am writing down a few goals that although seem unachievable in my current state, it won't be harmful to believe and make strides towards making them accomplishments.

Pondering #1: Am I experiencing a midlife crisis?

I don't know.

I don't feel like finding a twenty year old to use and abuse for my own sexual gratification (29, maybe...well, anywhere from 29 to 49...but I digress) and I thought that was supposed to be the major indicator of said crisis. I don't feel like a boob job and a convertible will be the answer to my maladies. New car, new job, bigger house, jewelry - none of those things will complete me!

I am attending a convention next weekend - a life coaching seminar, if you will. I am intrigued and excited. I am also skeptical and apprehensive. I am a preacher's daughter, remember? And I have partaken in many a church camp and revival...I know all of the buzz words and the vocal triggers for amping emotions to riotous highs. But I am also of the mind that I will not reject something out of hand just because I have preconceived notions of how it will NOT meet me where I am.

One of my new goals (and something that I already have experienced but have cast by the wayside in the last emotion-ridden year) is to expect and accept those impossible things, those gifts, those miracles that we are all offered but have difficulty accepting.

I am expecting only good things. This will mean constant vigil on my dreary, negative, fear-numbed thought process.

See? I have doubt already that I can maintain that vigil! But I will overcome. Right now.

...all smiles...
;)t

Do Something QUICK! ohwait...nevermind.

Well, crap.

Guess what?

I am not feeling anything. Not hoping, not caring, not loving, not hating, dreading or fearing.

Nothing.

There is no angle in my limited little world that is holding true to form. Rather, every detail is blending...all smooshing together in one muddy swirl.

I think that I am trying so hard to feel something - anything - and only nothing can come from such misguided exertion.

I have been wrestling in this quagmire for quite some time. Years, I think. Causing drama on an ever increasing level to get that sigh of relief from knowing that I am still capable of change in altitude.

Does this have anything to do with D? Or divorce? Or my mum and pop? Or some repressed anger from childhood? Or perhaps an undiagnosed demon? (HA!)

Nope.

It's just me. Me, and my closed up doors and windows with the phone turned off for good measure.

And a tall glass of wine. Not tall in the Starbuck's sense, either.

I am sure to be better soon. It's my pattern.

...night.

Hiding Under the Carpet with My Words

My mom and her husband came to visit me from NH for a week. Yeah - the same mom that gave me the intervention the week before I got served with divorce papers. Same mom. Turns out she loves me. (The ex-husband did not. Who would'a guessed?!)

Anyway - she and Bob stayed with the kids and I, and oh MAN did we ever have fun! Lots of laughing and games and even a really long hike up in Rocky Mountain National Park. Good for the soul, moms are.

But that isn't the only reason why you haven't seen me for awhile. There are a few more, such as the fact that I have been reading so many other people's blogs that there simply isn't time for my own! Besides that, aren't we all getting tired of my "I'm so happy and life is amazing/my heart is broken and life is nothing but mud puddles" circle of life? I wanted to go ride on other people's roller coasters. Oh my heavens, I have learned so much. So much about things that I will never experience - and in most cases, that is just fine. I can do the vicarious experience forever with no qualms.

Why am I writing in my own blog tonight?

Ugh.

Well.

I am avoiding an issue.

I am supposed to be writing an email explaining what exactly happened last Saturday night. It is my homework to sort it out in writing (because he knows I can't talk in words...I have to use my fingers on a keyboard to say what I really mean)and to share with D what my experience was so that he can possibly prevent a rerun.

No, I didn't cause a scene. No, I didn't reproach, whine, wheedle, nag, or punish anyone for anything.

But I did watch him and another girl sharing very intimate moments at a friend's birthday party - strange for two people who were only supposed to know each other through the neighbor. Hands brushing, knees leaning casually on thighs, heads too close and the whispering too soft for birthday party conversation. Lingering eyes on one another as one walked through the door to the adjoining room. All of my alarm bells were clanging - I mistook them for the sound of dangerously accelerating blood pressure in my ears.

It reminded me of the final days of my marriage - watching another scene much the same, only with my husband and a friend. So uncomfortable. So awkward. I wanted to crawl under the carpet, behind a door, or anywhere that would keep them from seeing my face heat up and my eyes blinking back the tears of shame and betrayal. I felt like I should remove myself from the room - as if I were an intruder on an intimate moment between rightful lovers.

Which is what I did.

In both cases.

Which went unnoticed in both cases.

However, this time, in the very wee hours of the morning, I was discovered sorting it out with my face in the pillow and my arms wrapped around my middle so as to not to make a sound.

I didn't tell him anything of what I had seen. I couldn't. The words would not appear.

Mercifully, he allowed me to be silent while he held me close and dried my face with his hands. He murmured soothing sounds over and through the roaring in my ears...and I let him lull me to sleep.

We didn't speak of it again - and I thought the matter was dropped, and I also assumed that he would prefer it that way! Until I got the email this morning from him asking for an explanation for the tears. He said that he knew I communicated best with my writing. That he had waited until I could write from the comfort and safety of my own home. And that he knew we could untangle this mess, just like we had untangled all the others ... through prose and carefully metered dialogue.

But I can't. I can't say the words, I can't write the words, I can't even mouth the words!

I am running away. I have been given the opportunity to have the correct response to a painful situation, and I am going to mess it up this time, too.


I wonder how long he will wait for me to answer...

State of the Terri Address

I really only have four "State of Being" status'.

Sure, there are variations of them, strange combinations to be sure, and even some hybrids. Those of you who know me will have experienced some if not all of these personality facets at one time or another. I have identified them as follows:

1- Magnanimous, nurturing, generous and wise.
2- Peevish, selfish, narrow minded and suspicious.
3- Hopelessly optimistic, in tune with the flow of consciousness, effervescent and childlike.
4- Fearful, jaded, sharp tongued and cynical.

Perhaps those four could be combined into two? I don't know. I DO know that I experience the more pleasant parts of me more frequently. I wonder if others would say the same.

Right now I am feeling rebellious (which personality does THAT fit into??)...like I have been held down too long and am aching to break free. But free of what?

I have ceremoniously destroyed all influences (except for my boss, obviously) that have had any power over how I conduct my life. I didn't do that on purpose, mind you. But now I alone am the only restriction to buck against!

I don't mind feeling rebellious or adventurous or like breaking free - I only mind the clean up after I have gone on my little indulgent spree. The price can be too high.

I am going to try and morph into the wisemagnaminousgenerousnurturer before morning.

The Holy Six-Pack

I am not a blasphemous person.

I am a preacher's daughter. My mother, although well versed in how to destroy a haughty, holier-than-thou evangelist using the Holy Bible as a Two-Edged Sword, taught me to to have reverence and respect for my God.

I was raised nondenominational charismatic (which has since become a denomination. Crazy huh?). D is Catholic. His ex, the Beauty Queen converted to Catholicism, his mom and dad and brother are Catholic - hell, his whole childhood town in Kansas is Catholic. I defer out of sheer outnumberedness. And also because I don't really care what denomination a congregation is. My God is still there.

We usually go to Mass with his children on the Sundays that I have to take my children to their father's house. I drive like a bat out of hell to make it on time, fully dressed and ready to attend Mass.

Well, at least my outer clothes are appropriate for Mass...my underclothes are anticipating a whole different scenario. But I digress.

Invariably, it has been a whole week to ten days since I have last had any physical contact by the time I get there, so I am a bit starved. Okay - a lot starved! Sometimes I am afraid people can hear my body beg them to touch me. And at Mass, this is inappropriate behavior. Also, it is inappropriate thinking. Not that it is appropriate behavior or thinking at the supermarket, either, but you know what I mean.

During the communion that I am not allowed to partake in (because I am not Catholic), I found my mind wandering and my eyes roving through the congregation. What a wonderful cross-section of humanity a church is!
Trying to keep my thoughts pure and my body from shouting, I focused on family structures and the recognizable dynamics of proper two parent/wonderful children units.

I swear I wasn't looking at the Tall Smoldering Dark and Handsome with the bicep tattoo peeking out from under his sleeve. I promise that I wasn't gazing back into BlueEyed, CleanCut, All American's steady gaze. I was at Mass with my boyfriend and his children for gawds sake! LITERALLY!

Directing my point of view back to the pulpit and pageantry was a difficult and necessary task - and also where I decided that I could never, ever enter a confession booth, because the penalty for my next thought would surely be too high.

As I glanced up at the Statue of Christ on His Cross, I heard myself muse,"Huh. Wow. Those are some great abs. I didn't even know He worked out..."

Please don't be angry with me, friends - blasphemy and disrespect was not my intent.

As punishment, God did not allow me to have any alone time with D whatsoever for the entire night, and here I am on Monday. Alone. Skin starving. Body shouting. And doing penance as dutifully as I can.

Well, isn't this a fine howdy-do?

Fourteen posts (approximately), 15 months (or so), thousands of miles on my car (on average), and exactly ONE (selfmade) rollercoaster later:

I am ready to move on to something else now. This whole grownup dating thing got boring real fast.

Let's go do something different. Like what, I don't know yet. But we can figure something out. It has to be fun, and it has to make us feel alive, and it has to be inexpensive. For a little while, anyway. And it can't be illegal.

Who's in??

Swift Kick for the Sad Kangaroo

Halloween 2008

"Quart? Are you still coming over tonight?" D asks with some bewilderment attached. I have yet to drive to Denver since the weekend before last...a complete change in the schedule we have kept for the last year and three months.

But I am going tonight. And I am excited.

We have disected the weekend (his idea) to find our disconnect, and to make sure it doesn't happen again. Communication seems to be the biggest factor - I assume much more than I actually ask. He doesn't tell me because he assumes I already know. What a mess.

But MOST importantly, I had some decisions to make and some growing up to do. I know, hard to believe, ah?

I am the one who put myself in the precarious adoring girlfriend position. That in itself does not entail me to any special privileges...more, it puts me at a disadvantage. I cannot expect someone else to give as much as I do just because it's fair.

I have to pull back so that I don't get so resentful, so dissillusioned - so...so...DRAMATIC!

Yes, I am embarrased and yes a bit redfaced, but I am determined to practice this relationship skill NOW while it matters so that I won't have to put anyone else through this brain damage.

And you won't have to cringe for me so much in the future when you read my posts! :)

Hope Doesn't Float (when you hold it underwater)

Well, THAT was short-lived. I am apparently a fickle flake. I did not know this about myself, so please forgive me while I digest this new information.

D went hunting - not a surprise trip, and definitely not an unsupported trip - in Kansas. He was gone for three days. Friday afternoon he called my phone at a time he knew I would not be able to answer, and left a message. I refer to this style of message as the Kansas KissOff. I have gotten it a few times now.

"Hey Baby, on the road, almost out of cell phone range, have a great weekend with your kids, I'll talk to you later!".

Translation: Hey Baby, I left already, but I waited until I was almost out of cell phone range to call and let you know, and I don't expect to be in touch the entire weekend so don't count on it, but don't despair either - I will let you know when I am home for your adoration and ministrations.

He did indeed talk to me later - but by that time it was too late.

He definitely was not expecting the emotional mess I disintegrated in to, and because I couldn't even explain it to myself, I had no plausible explanation for him. When he left I was a giggly, smoochy-faced silly girl - and when he came back I was a sobbing, indecipherable wreck.

He wasn't mean, defensive or angry. Confused, for sure. I did take ownership of my own meltdown because I am smart enough to know that I am responsible for my own emotions and actions, and he LET me because we both knew that my reaction was over the top. He apologized for "whatever it is that I did that made you feel this bad"...and he meant it, I am positive. And then he was tired from his long weekend of partying and hunting, so it was time for him to go to sleepgoodnightIhopeyouarebetterinthemorningpleasegawd.

When my sobbing on the bed finally stopped, it was very quiet in my little house.

Something was different.

It was me.

I (think I) want to break up.

Hope is a cute pair of shoes

Photo courtesy of PostSecrets 1-4-09

This year is going to be amazing. I can feel it in my tummy! I know that the economy is bad, and I know that the politics are jacked, and I know that Yellowstone is probably going to blow up in the next few months and wipe us all of the face of the earth. But - there is something else, too.

Hope. HOPE! It's all bubbling around in me...in my head, my heart, and yes, even my tummy. Hope for better relationships with my mom and my dad and their families. Hope for a more stable relationship with my ex husband and his crazy, cannibalistic freak show of a clan. Hope for growth and exploration with my children. Hope for solidification and stability in my friendships.

And hope for finally being where I am supposed to be. And hope for being loved like I have always needed to be loved. And hope for growing into my own skin and becoming who I was intended to be.

This year is going to be amazing.

:)

Signage and it's Impact

I have had the privilige of meeting - and spending time with - D's exwife, the pageant queen and goddess that helped him create his two beautiful children and the large hole in his heart.

I like her.

She is two years younger than me - he is 3 years older than me - I get lost in the dichotomy of it all. She is wealthy, classy, gorgeous, tiny and successful.

I hate her.

No, I don't. I like her. I am just a hate-ER.

She makes me self concious, and a bit oafish.

She speaks soft and musically and I am loud and clanky. She drives a Lexus and wears Jimmy Choo boots. I drive a Vibe and my Bongo's. She has a mani/pedi every Saturday morning and a massage every Sunday morning. I chew my nails to the nub and scratch my own back with a pasta grabber.

The comparisons get bleaker from there...although I know I win in the passion department. And the niceness department. And the friend and family acceptance arena. Oh, and I am a much bigger hit with the neighbors. Those are the things I comfort myself with...

...anyway, while D and I were taking his children to their mother's mansion, we happened to pass by a storefront that caught my eye. I have always read signs outloud, especially when I am trying to distract myself from thinking about my destination.

This particular storefront said:
SUSHI CIRCUS AS AN BISTRO

which particularly tickled me! Who in their right mind would use such bad grammar in a huge public sign of all things? It should read AS A BISTRO! "An" goes before words that start with vowels, and "A" with consonants....duh!

It took me a few more blocks to realize what the real problem with the sign was. There was an I missing. Here is what it should have said:
SUSHI CIRCUS ASIAN BISTRO

Ha!

I shared this tidbit with the Beauty Queen, you know, in an attempt to make conversation when we got there.

She didn't laugh. Nor did she get it.

I win in the wacky sense of humor and grammar department, too.

Right?

Wise and Unwise Why's

PostSecrets fascinate me. I read them every chance I get. They are addicting! No, I haven't done one myself...mostly because I am not nearly as creative as those tormented (or delighted!)souls.

I found my own PostSecret at Target. I was in one of my hibernation spells - you know, where I don't answer the phone or the door or my email - but I needed to get some inserts for my little planner, so venture out I did.

As I looked for just the right paper product for my life changing (HA!) organizer, I came across the most extraordinary thing smack dab in the middle of a notepad on the shelf. I don't even know what made me flip through it!:


I do know this, though - it changed my whole night. It still affects me when I look at it now! Who wrote this? Was she (I am assuming the gender of the author and I know that is wrong. Sorry.) cheated on? Did her man (or woman - not assuming here) leave her for someone they knew? Or someone she trusted? Or someone the cheatee considered "less than"?

Perhaps the "her" in question got the job (or just the recognition) that the writer coveted. Or perhaps something unfathomable happened to the "her" and the question is aimed at God.

I am stunned by all of the perhaps's that these two words create.

And I am stunned by the answer that keeps sing-songing in my brain: Why NOT her?

Wallering

Hey - I have a great question! What could possibly be better than drinking by yourself and Next-Blogging?

Reading an ENTIRE blog. That contains (at least) three years of entries. Of which you can remember when at least 40% of them were posted. And still 30% of them make you weep like you are reading them for the first time. And 87% make you feel like there is hope - that there are great people with their own burdens who are no less fabulous.

The ONE thing that is better than drinking by yourself and Next-Blogging is drinking by yourself and reading an entire blog of the one person you "know" but have never met and being sure that even when you are allllbyyourselflonesomeinabighousewithjustacat...

...everything will be okay.

Thanks Indi.

(BTW, the cat? He is named after you. Sort of. Well, it's short for Independence. He had a sister...her name was Libby. Short for Liberty. Divorce humor...sheesh. Anyway, Libby showed her pleasure or her affection for a person by peeing on said person. She really wasn't right in the head...am I rambling? Criminy.)

Story Telling 101

Oh, yes. This is a topic that I am qualified to teach on.

Story Telling.

Not the kind that you enjoy, mind you. Not the kind of story with a moral, or the kind that actually has a beginning, middle or end, and not the kind that is passed down through the generations or gets told around the dinner table. No - I make a mess out of those kind of stories. Hell, I can't even tell a story about a happening in my day without getting completely off topic and most of the time forgetting what happening I was storying about!

The kind of Story Telling I am good at?

The kind that happens when the gray matter between my ears gets all whacked out on insecurity or injustice or some imaginary slight.

For instance: Running into a coworker in the hall - she is brief - I am surprised - I write a story. She is probably very upset that I did not listen closely to a presentation that she gave last week, and now she thinks that I am neglectful of our department issues. And this probably was discussed amongst others, including my supervisor, who coincidentally is giving me my yearly review next week, and now it will probably go badly for me...oh WHY can't I just pay attention during meetings??! Nice story, huh? (What REALLY happened: a vital employee gave his two weeks, throwing our holiday schedule into disarray, and stressing my coworker out to the point of distraction. Had nothing to do with me.)


Another example: Netflix has a special where I can update my Twoatatime package to Threeatatime for $.60. Just press HERE--->(button). I pressed. My credit card failed to authorize. For sixty cents. Oh my gawd...I write a story. I have somehow messed up my bank balance to the point where I am now so far in the hole that even my credit card is cut off! And now I bet that I will be on the streets by January at least - or even the end of December at this rate. And obviously they will come to take my car at some point, and I will have to concede to my ex that I just can't make it on my own and throw myself on his neverexisting mercy. The shame and horror was all consuming - and very destructive. Medal winning story. (What really happened? I moved. And the address on my NetFlix and card did not match - a quick update did the trick. Did I upgrade my package? No. Still too engrossed in my story.)

I have spent the last four days being cognizant of my Story Telling - and it has worked wonders on my state of confusion and agony. Every time my brain starts whirring and concocting and fabricating, I simply tell myself: You are writing a story. Stop it. Now.

My friends, boyfriend and family are all very grateful because it is very nice to not have to answer for things that haven't really happened anywhere but in my fancy little head.

No telling what kind of creativity I will come up with next...but let's hope that I use my powers for good and not evil. ;)

Highway Grand Opening

Part of my misery is my own damn fault. Funny how that works, and even funnier how hard it is to admit it, ah? Anyway!

Bah.

Three or four years ago when things in my mind were starting to muck up, and things in my household were becoming crystal clear for the dysfunction they were, I filled my life up with people that I only communicated with electronically. At first it was people from my Quit.net, and then it started to include people I met blogging, and then after my divorce it became people I met on dating sites who although I didn't get to date them (D asked for exclusivity immediately -flattering, but detrimental to the cause of seeing what all is out there...), I still had much communication through email and/or texting.

That all came to a grinding halt in the early fall when D expressed his displeasure with all of my random iPeople. So I cut off communication with them all. All of my flirty friends that made me laugh and giggle and blush, all of my intuitive friends that gave me great advice and stayed ever available for my sporadic need for repartee, even my concert buddy who still to this day does not know why he went to so many concerts by himself this year - I stopped "talking" to them all. And focused all of my attention on my relationship with D.

And there is where at least two of my four wheels start to come off the track. It seems that I am a high contact person who has an incredible need for near-constant socialization. Can one man - one amazing man, albeit - carry that humongous burden? Could he ever hope to get lucky at the art of keeping me even-keeled? No. No. He hasn't a snowball's chance in hell of meeting those particular needs of mine.

And so. Is it really fair? Is it fair that I put so much pressure on him to do the impossible? Would it be a blessing of immeasurable value and an enormous relief to have that responsibility and source of brain damage, that everpresent millstone around his neck removed?

Why, yes. I do believe I agree with you. I think I am reopening the terriberrisuperinformationhighway. I need those connections. They are a lifeline of sorts. And I miss them terribly.

There. You had no idea I was such an excellent giver and problem solver, did you? :)

Next Floor Level, Please

Is it the alignment of (or my misalignment with) the stars? Is it my emotional immaturity and baggage that I am left to reconcile in the aftermath of divorce? Is it insecurity about my future?

Criminy. I don't know.

There is something wrong with me. And I don't like it.

I used to be afraid that D would read my blog and find some reason to be upset with me. I used to be very careful to not put into words anything I couldn't back up in real life. I would refrain from sharing any difficult emotions or situation that hadn't already been resolved.

But now I know that I don't need to worry about D reading my blog. Or reading my emails. (Even the ones sent to him from me! HA!) Or listening to my voice messages - or even CD's. (Even SPECIAL CD's like the one I put together like some stupid teenager on our year anniversary!) Nope. Nada. Just won't do it. Wouldn't be prudent. And RETURN an email? Or a text? Whatever. I can go a whole day, sometimes two, without hearing from him. Take right now for instance: the last meaningful conversation we had was last week..before he left for Kansas.

Sometimes I am okay with this uncommunicative state, especially if I have just been in his arms for a weekend or so. I mean, who cares about stupid txt messages and phone calls and emails and cd's and blogs when you are in your man's arms? When I am okay with his radio silence I feel mature and whole and balanced.

But then other times - like right now - when I am floating out and around in this universe, completely by myself, scared and riddled with anxiety, it makes me feel so insignificant. It makes me feel like I have attached myself to someone (again) that does not feel the same way about me. And we all know how I feel about giving out more than I am getting back!

...it makes me feel invisible and lost and very, very alone.

I am literally holding myself down to keep from throwing it all away because I want to have a healthy relationship. And because I am not sure these minor transgressions are a true deal breaker. What if I am just being immature again? Or letting my imagined princess status become a demand? What if I am being a whiney, stereotypical girl? I mean, can I not hold myself together with my own strength? Can I not be by myself for a little while without coming unhinged?

I just don't know.

Right now I need strong arms around me, I need to feel safe and loved and cared for.

I need to matter.

And it is starting to feel dangerous.

Tberri's Overactive Lens

This is an actual marketing technique...these shoes are airport friendly! Does that mean that they slip on and off easily when moving through the Gestapo line, or does it mean that you can't store devices in them without being discovered? Does it mean that they won't make alot of noise when you are running to your gate only to find out that your plane has been delayed? Perhaps it means that you can jump up and down on the escalator and people mover while trying to entertain the children who have been stuck in the terminal for the last 13 hours? Perhaps they help you find your lost luggage...just perhaps!

Gotta get me some.




Hey - here is a plea for humanity...Don't take my contenner away please...please!! FGS! I love my contenner and I won't have you jackin' it from me again!

(This drip-catching contenner was found in front of the Chinese restaurant D and I go for lunch on Saturdays last year during the many weeks of melting and freezing snow.)

(Cute, isn't it?)





Oh yeah...got caught speeding again.

Thankfully, this time I was not the one sitting in the driver's seat.

I still may have been the cause for the excess speed...depends on who you talk to.

I feel innocent enough.

:)

Professional Head Banger

Criminy Almighty.

Sometimes the mental gymnastics that my mind does at any given part of the day give me the shivers.

My thought processes are NOT CORRECT! How is that possible? I am a smart girl. I am street smart (sort of) and book smart (a bit) but every once in awhile I am a complete NINCOMPOOP!

Aaaargh...

Last night I took a car load of girlfriends to Denver for a meeting - fun, outgoing, loud and boisterous girls. We had the very best time listening to music and comparing boyfriend/SO stories - some tales more serious than others. My contribution was the fact that D's secretary has a crush on him and texts him at all hours of the day and night. It drives me batty, but I say nothing. I am the cool girlfriend, right? Even though the secretary before her sent him pics of herself in her underwear (that happened last January...I just finally asked him about it a couple of weeks ago. I lack in the adressing issues department.) and even though we both know that it is innappropriate, I say nothing. I figured I would come off jealous and stupid. My friends thought this was a definite gaffe in handling him, and encouraged me to take measures to end this ill fated circumstance one way or the other - "because you just can't hold stuff in like that...it's unhealthy". An ultimatum if you will.

So...blech.
After coming down to meet me for drinks and dinner, he launched into a story about said secretary/skankho sharing tales of her notsorecent tummy tuck. A very innocent exchange between the two, I am sure. But just her name (and the beer I was drinking) pushed me right over the edge and boy, howdy, didn't I just tell HIM that it was either her or I, and that I would not put up with this type of innappropriateness and neither should he?! Oh. Yes. I. Did.

After about two hours of nonsensical back and forth BS that ranged from how often he did/didn't call me, how much time he spent talking to her, what type of texts she sent vs. mine, etc. he fell asleep when I took a potty break. I wiped him clean out with my psycho girlfriend routine.

I woke him up with a treat this morning...and then shared the one special lesson that I learned from all of our headbanging excersises: The reason why we sometimes hold in things we feel and think is because they are stupid and should NOT be let out.

He forgave me.

...and then his phone buzzed with a message.

HAPPY FRIDAY! :)

Driving Ms.Terri

I am still racing to Littleton and back when I don't have the kids. It's 180 miles round trip. It's 25,000 miles on my car in the last year and one month.

Is it worth it? Yeah...it is. Does he come see me? Sometimes - but not very often...he has a different parenting schedule than I do, so it is a much more difficult practice for him. Do I resent that? Yeah, I guess I do sometimes!

It is hard to be a single mother of three with all of the same bills I had when I was married, paying gas prices per gallon that rival the price of a gallon of Orange Juice, and working a full time plus a part time job AND commuting three hours a day. It gets old.

But he does little things that make it feel better. One Saturday before I woke up, he took my car down and had it detailed. Sometimes when we are using my vehicle he will just randomly pull into a gas station and fill it up to the tiptop. And clean my windows. He lets me use his VIP service package - and has even footed the bill for my maintenance visits.

Now there is another sweet little thing to add to his pro list - he ordered me a transponder for the toll road. Yep. I have my very own transponder that will assist me in my racing endeavors...it will save me about an hour round trip.

I know. My idea of romantic is skewed. Whatever.

I am happy.

:)

A Transparent Life

(my best friends from high school at our 20th class reunion)

It is my goal, you know.


Well...at least my newest goal. A transparent life. One that everyone can look in on. Not to stalk me, fgs!

Rather, a life that I don't have to hide any parts of.

It's a revolutionary concept for me. I have been hiding different parts of my life from different people respectively for as long as I can remember.

Not in a bad way, I suppose. More in a selfprotectiveletthembelievewhattheywant kind of way.

I think it is why those closest to me complain that they really never know who I will be at any given moment. It's why those closest to me never feel close to me.

I am at the place in my life where I want to feel close...close to my friends, close to my boyfriend, and close to my family.

Is it safe to use the word integration for this new phase of being The Terri? Does that resemble too nearly the painful process that fractured personalities have to endure to become one? Because I am not fractured...just secretive.

Anyway. There are no more hiding places. There are no more secret lives or secret escapes to make me feel safe. This is me. Me and my bumbling, rambling, riotous, shrinking violet, idiotically insane yet rational idiosyncrasies...aaaaaghhhh!

...A Transparent Life.

God help us all.

P.S. Here is my first stop towards integration: http://qtimatic.blogspot.com/

Definitely not a total disclosure. More of a filling in of missing detail. For those who are keeping track.

Evacuation

I am not here anymore.

When I find where I am you will be the very first to know.

If, however, you don't hear anything - come find me. Please.

;)t

Full Circle

She's here. Elizabeth is here. And I really like

her. So do my other children.

We all look alike...and have some of the same mannerisms. I think she is taken aback by our interactions though - I think our family might not be as staid as hers.

Oh well.

We gots lotsa love, and that is what counts.

Instant Reincarnation

Dawn and Travis (D's Cousin and Wife), me, and Darin closing down their restaurant/bar in NE one early Sunday morning.

Someone tell me a joke and do it quickly! A good laugh is supposed to be an altitude and attitude adjuster.

Things have gotten too heavy and too complicated and too hard to decipher.

I am going to reboot.

Sing - Along with Simba and Rafiki

How many of you have watched Lion King? How many of you have watched it so many times that you can recite large portions of it without cognizance? How many of you can watch the opening scene without tearing up or developing goose flesh? Yeah...I still get all choked up, even as I recite the script with Pumba. Who knew these characters would leave such an indelible impression on us?

The Circle of Life. What a great theme song. Got it stuck in my head RIGHT NOW.

Guess why?

NOT because I just got done watching The Lion King.

But because Elizabeth is coming to stay with me in two days. The Circle of Life. I gave her to her parents 18 years ago...and now they are giving her back to me.

You would think that this Circle would feel much wider and bigger - 18 years is a long time! It's an entire childhood, even!

But to me? This circle feels like a noose. In my vision for what the day looks like when I finally get to meet my daughter again, I am so much farther ahead than where I am today. I am going to have to concede to reality, though.

My only goal at this point is to make her feel loved and comfortable - and to keep my insecurities in check.

My need to make her proud of me is by far second to her need of me being proud of her.

Vanilla Pudding in the Shade

My boys in my back yard. It backs right into heaven...great for late evening walks!


This weekend I got bored. And boring. Ugh.

I woke up this morning on my red leather art deco couch in a puddle of sunlight to the sound of cartoons. Anyone who knows me knows that I don't watch TV. But I have been doing just that this weekend. And apparently it is sucking the brains right out of me to the point where I can't even make it to bed!

Dielji is at "Fish Camp" this weekend...all weekend. Plus two weekdays. In his absence I could have gone to the lake with friends or gone bar hopping and dancing with other friends, but I decided to start acting like a sane, balanced woman who can be by herself for a couple of days without throwing a breaker. I stayed home.

I floated in my pool, did pilates, laundry and dishes. And watched two movies. I worked out on my elliptical and made a menu for next week so the kids and I can go grocery shopping when I pick them up from their father's house.

That is ALL I have done...and I will tell you this:
I cannot be by myself for a couple of days without throwing a breaker. I get boring and stupid. Next time I am at this crossroads - watch out, world! I am coming to play with YOU!

Ick No!

When I was a teenager I was fortunate enough to go to Sweden with a team from Teen Missions, Intl. out of Merrit Island, Florida. I was only 14, so most of what I remember is the interaction I had with my peers, and not the ministry we did or the culture that we experienced. What I remember the most are the little phrases that we used like code. One person would say something that was catchy, and then another would repeat it, and then after a very short while it became part of our own language. Phrases like, "IT'S a castle!" or"Ick, NO!" have very little meaning outside of that summer of 84's context, but to us it was hilarious! And I know that if I were to utter one of those combinations of words in the presence of my former teammates, their mind would whisk them back to that time period...just as is happening to me.

Today, though, "Ick, no!" is how I am referring to my last little break from reality. It is the best way that I can describe the shame I feel when I read some of the things I have posted here and in other places. I know that we are all growing and learning, and that some of us do it more graceful than others (NOT me) ...but I wish I would not have made my episodes so public. I need to remember that some events do not require words. Or explanation.

On the other hand - it does make a fine"You are Here" spot.

I am so grateful to be "Here" - and not "Back There".

:)

Niel's Ode to One Year

Look what my Nela girl wrote for my One Year Celebration of No Smoking!

A year can be an eternity
A year can be a flash
New lives have been opened
Old lives have been passed
The journey is marked with pain and tears
But laughter and joy as well
You soldier on with a brave heart and smile
Wondering what time will tell
Love was kissed gently
And painfully let go
Your soul begin its new emergence
To the freedom it should know
A year of independence
A year of screaming out loud
But at the end of all of it -
at the very end of all of it -
it's your year to be most proud.

Niel, you will never know how deeply you touched my heart. I don't think anyone has ever written a poem for me before, and I certainly was not expecting such a beautiful gift on that day. You treated my One Year just like the High Holiday I felt it was. Thank you.


And, Niel?
Look at the flowers Darin sent. Sent them to me at work.

He thought it was important, too. Amazing.







Friends and family alike: Look at how happy and healthy and wonderful my children look One Year after turning their life on it's head by something so silly as quitting smoking! A day that changed EVERYTHING for them. And for me.
I am so glad I made that decision.
It was the right one.